


Recovery

by hunterinabrowncoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Healthy Relationships, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunterinabrowncoat/pseuds/hunterinabrowncoat
Summary: Sam finally meets somebody who understands, who takes his trauma seriously, and finds that recovery is messy and complex, but it can be beautiful too.(Written because I'm so damn tired of the writers using metaphors for rape and actual sexual abuse as a plot, and then brushing it off as though it shouldn't have an effect on him. I may or may not project a lot...)





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: PTSD symptoms, implied historical sexual abuse, sex scene. No explicit content.

Her name is Amy. she’s twenty-seven, bold, beautiful and so very broken.

Just like him.

They meet when Sam’s working a case, and something about her makes her memorable to him. Her eyes are gentle, and her smile kind. She helps more than she has to, and offers Sam some comfort in a moment alone. The genuineness of her concern catches him off guard, but it feels nice to feel her concern all the same.

They meet again by chance some weeks later and she decides she rather likes his company.

She invites him to grab a coffee, but he soon finds that he enjoys her company very much too, and a friendship is born. Coffee dates become a regular thing, and soon enough they turn into walks through the park, catching movies together, phone calls long into the night, and eventually Sam agrees to join her at the support group meeting she talked about.

He never shares much. He’s polite enough - answers questions, and smiles when he can, but mostly he just listens intently. Because it turns out she was right - there is something powerful in knowing you’re not alone.

Still, he feels like he’s cheating somehow. All of these people talk about their experiences, things they can relate to, things that happen to ordinary people. How can he talk about what’s happened to him? It’s not as if anyone would believe him…

He often misses meetings - his day job has never exactly had a very forgiving schedule. But he makes it whenever he can, and it always makes him feel a particular kind of way when he turns up and Amy tells him she has worried about his absence. It feels strange to know someone else cares that much, and he’s glad that of all the people to share that kind of concern with, it’s her.

He listens to her at group and on their time alone together. His heart breaks for her and the things she’s been through. It seems ludicrous to him at first that she cares so much to hear about his baggage when she’s got so much of her own. But she does… she listens, quietly and intently. Often she doesn’t say anything in response. She just looks at him, almost right through him, in a way that somehow makes him feel safer, and better for having shared.

He speaks up in group for the first time in a Thursday meeting, almost five months after he and Amy first met. He’s not really sure where to start, so he starts at the beginning, with his mom’s death and life on the road, and how he almost got away from it. He talks about feeling cursed because so much death and suffering has followed him around since he was a kid.

“And I feel so responsible for everyone around me,” he says earnestly, “There’s so much bad crap in this world and I can do something about it, I  _have_  to. And I know people are better off because of what I do. I know I’m helping. But… I guess I never really have time to stop and process what’s actually happened, you know? There’s no time to grieve, no time to just take a minute for myself.”

Murmurs of empathy echo around the room as people nod.

He talks about some of the uglier things he’s been through - things he always brushed off because he’s a Winchester and he’s supposed to be strong. All the bullets, the torture, the captivity, the Devil dancing in his head… he tells half-truths, disguising the less believable parts of his life. But even if he is in some way lying, he’s being more honest than he’s ever been, and it feels good to be able to say it all aloud.

“The pain isn’t the problem,” he says quietly one day, some weeks later. His voice on the verge of breaking, “I’ve been through worse, I can grin and bear it, you know? It’s the mind-games… It’s the… touching that  _isn’t_  painful, that  _should_  be enjoyable… while she was torturing me, she took it and twisted it into some… I don’t know. Into something…”

“Something it shouldn’t be.” Amy finishes the sentence he can’t. “She took something that’s supposed to be enjoyable and she hurt you with it… It’s totally understandable to feel so violated by it.”

Sam nods.

“I mean it’s nothing new, I’ve been in those kind of situations lots of times before…” he says, almost shrugging it off. And then, with a sad and awkward smile he says, “It’s an occupational hazard I guess.”

Amy replies, more determined this time. “That doesn’t make your pain any less real! It doesn’t matter if it happened once or if it happens every week, you’re still allowed to respond to it with anger or hurt or confusion or whatever else you feel. Your emotions are valid and needs to be processed.”

Her statement is met with more murmurs of agreement from around the circle, and the group leader thanks Sam for sharing and starts to wrap up.

As the sessions go on, Sam shares a little more, and every week he can, he makes time to spend alone with Amy. They don’t often talk about the session - an hour is draining enough. Instead they talk about anything, everything else. She complains about her job, he talks about his brother, she laughs about her friends, he reminisces about his favourite places.

One day he turns up on her doorstep, with blood on his clothes and tears in his eyes and the look of a man who has seen too much. And in a barely audible whisper, he asks “Can I come in for a while?”.

She knows enough not to ask; instead she just sits there and holds him until he’s ready to talk. Even then, he doesn’t say much. He doesn’t want to bring this life down on her, with all the mess and pain and danger it brings. She’s been through enough already. And she’d probably think he was mad anyway.

“I know you don’t tell all the facts,” she shrugs with a smile. “But it’s never really mattered to me, because what you’re saying is  _true_. What difference does it make what drug you were on, or why you were held captive? The trauma’s still real, and what matters is how it made you feel.”

He smiles, slowly. But he’s still afraid. He talks about losing people he’s loved very dearly - it started with his mother and it just doesn’t seem to stop. So now he finds it so hard to reach out; he doesn’t want to set himself up for that kind of hurt again. He doesn’t want people close to him getting hurt.

But Amy doesn’t buy it; she cares about him and she knows he cares about her too. And nobody can do this alone.

“This?” he asks.

“Life!” she replies. “Nobody can get through life on their own, even if they were given things easy, and you definitely weren’t!”

She says it’s okay to let people into his life, and that superhero line about not letting people get close to you because they become a weak point is total bullshit. Then she bites her tongue, takes a deep breath and tells him the truth.

“I wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for you. If you hadn’t ‘let yourself get close to me’ I’d be buried six feet under after putting a bullet in my mouth, months ago.”

He isn’t sure what to say. He didn’t even know he’d done anything to help. But she doesn’t let the silence hang for long.

“Letting people get close to you does make you vulnerable and it hurts… but maybe a little vulnerability is exactly what you need. You’re not superhuman Sam. You need people to hold you up when you can’t do it anymore, just like the rest of us.”

And in that moment Sam realises that it’s too late anyway - he’s already let her in. Coming up on a year since their first chance encounter, she is one of the most important people in his life. Every time they talk, every late-night phone call from the bunker or chat over coffee is a little slice of normal, slotted into his crazy life, and he can't bare the thought of giving it up. Seeing her face is like a cool blast of water after spending all day in the suffocating heat, and he soon realises that’s what he looks forward to whenever he’s away.

The first kiss they share is gentle, soft, and so very tender. She moves first and, safe and comfortable, Sam responds. He presses his lips against hers and runs his hand so delicately through her hair as she cups his cheek with her palm. And when they part, eyes opening slowly, they’re both smiling.

There’s no sparks or fireworks; it doesn’t feel exciting. It feels familar and warm, like being held lovingly for the first time in years.

Their friendship becomes something more, something different, as the two of them finally allow one another to step into each other’s space in a new way. He’s the first thing she thinks about each morning, and she takes care to remind him of that, especially when he’s away. And she’s the last thing on his mind at night, before he slips into unconsciousness and the nightmares come.

He stays over at hers a few times when he and Dean have a few days break. She finds herself feeling much safer with someone else lying next to her, holding her as she drifts off to sleep. But it’s not always easy… One night Sam is roused from his own nightmare as he feels her body tossing and turning right next to him. When she wakes up in a sweat, she panics at having another person wrapped around her and barely conscious of what she’s saying she screams into the darkness, “Get off! Don’t touch me! Get off me!”

Sam moves away swiftly and sits at the end of the bed, watching her with tears in his eyes as she fumbles with her hands and whispers to herself, trying desperately to calm down. He can see in her eyes a kind of frozen, horrified panic, and he knows she’s been reliving it all over again in her dreams.

Sam retreats to the sofa for the rest of the night, though neither of them get much sleep. In the morning he makes her breakfast and they cuddle and cry together. There’s no need for words… they both know what it’s like, they both have their own demons. And however difficult, having someone else there who understands is irreplaceable.

Eventually, she starts to ask about where he lives and what he does. She doesn’t want to upset the hornet’s nest, but she can’t help but feel as though she’s missing a significant part of his life. He tries to tell her it’s nothing to miss - it’s ugly and painful and messy. But Dean has been itching to meet her too. He doesn’t know about the support groups, or much about Amy at all, but he’s long since known that Sam has a girlfriend, and hasn’t stopped pestering him about it.

They meet for dinner, and Dean is polite enough. He cracks jokes, tries to embarrass Sam of course, but he’s careful not to give anything away. He remarks on how attractive she is, and for a moment her smile falters. Sam catches her eye and quickly changes the topic of conversation. The awkward moment passes straight over Dean’s head, but it’s okay - she shrugs it off. He didn’t know.

Sam decides, some months down the line, that he has to either tell her the truth about his life or let her go. He can’t bring himself to do the latter, so he decides to show her the bunker. Dean isn’t happy about it, and Sam spends a lot of time trying to fumble his way through a prep talk, trying to get her to understand that his life is shocking and ugly and dangerous. He tells her it’s okay if she doesn’t want to be with him afterwards, but all she can do is give him a puzzled look and pray that his secrets aren't too dark.

He tells her what they do, stumbling nervously over his words and shows her around the bunker. Dean watches silently, staring her out, trying to figure out what she’s going to do. When she asks tentative questions, he has a sarcastic quip to hand.

She doesn’t really react at first - doesn’t smile and tell him everything’s okay or scream and run. And Sam can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not. Holding his breath, he stands silently and holds out his arms as if to say 'this is it… that’s all I’ve got to say’.

“I think I’m gonna need some time to… process this, Sam.” she says quietly.

Then she asks him to take her home and Sam’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, where a heavy, burning weight sits. At least it was good while it lasted. At least she didn’t freak out. At least he’s found some healing on their journey together. At least they had the last 18 months before she runs away.

Needless to say, he’s surprised when his phone buzzes a week later and he sees her face appear next to the caller ID. The message reads “Can we meet up? Need to talk x”. Apprehensive and afraid of what she’ll have to say, he goes anyway.

But it’s not what he expects at all. When he pulls up to their favourite bar, she greets him with a soft, warm smile.

“Your life is definitely more… colourful than I’d imagined. I don’t know what I thought, to be honest. I figured you were in the army or the CIA or something. I don’t know if this is better or worse!”

Sam can’t help but chuckle.

“But it doesn’t really matter… I guess your life makes a lot more sense to me now. It’s no wonder you carry around so much on your shoulders - you and your brother are pushing back against a whole world of shit that the rest of us don’t even know about. It sounds like a pretty thankless and lonely life. And you’re right - it does seem dangerous and ugly and terrifying. But it’s your life… and you were brave enough to let me into it, so I want to be a part of it.”

Sam is dumbstruck. He just sits there, his mouth hanging open a little, eyebrows raised.

“Not the actually gory hunting down monsters bit!” she adds with a half-smile, “But I do want to be part of your life. And if that means carrying this secret for you, and waiting for you to come back so that you have something good to come back to, then I want to be a part of it.”

It’s as simple as that. It feels like cheating that it should be so easy, but she doesn’t run screaming. And Sam isn’t really quite sure what to do. Could they possibly make it work? She’s not a hunter, but what happens if they start a family? Will he give up hunting? Will she eventually end up joining him?

Sam catches himself before his thoughts spin out of control. They don’t know what the future holds, but they’ll get to that when they get there. Right now she’s sitting in front of him, and she’s not going anywhere.

He takes her back to the bunker and this time he gives her the whole tour. All the underground rooms, the extensive library, and eventually his bedroom.

She walks around for a while as though inspecting the place. Eventually she turns back to him as he stands expectantly in the doorway.

“I like it!” she says.

Smiling, Sam leans in and kisses her slowly. She pulls him in close as their lips touch, and after a moment begins to take off her shirt. Sam responds in kind, and they slowly make their way towards the bed. He lays her down slowly, gently, and lays tender a kiss on her stomach as he begins to undo his belt.

They do everything right - moving slowly, making sure the other is comfortable, asking “is this okay?”.

Sam nods, as he presses into her. He can hear her breath in his ear and the feel of her warm hands running up his back, and he should be enjoying it. He  _is_  enjoy it. But somehow it doesn’t feel right. He can feel himself stiffening up, and she notices too.

“Are you okay?” she whispers.

He nods again, moving the hair from her face and looking down at her, but it’s beginning to feel more and more like a lie. She carries on kissing him, but suddenly he can’t bring himself to kiss her back. He knows that he's safe, and he's enjoying it, but it doesn't stop the slow burn of panic in his chest from rising. Eventually, he pulls away and picks himself up from on top of her.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, could we just… take a minute?”

She nods, sitting up. Concern is written all over her face.

“Sam?” she asks, “Are you okay?” When he doesn’t respond for a moment, she asks, “Do you want to stop?”

Full of shame, Sam nods. He turns away, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and burying his face in his hands. He feels her soft hands touch his back.

“It’s okay…” she whispers. “It’s okay you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I do want to!” he replies, throwing his hands up. “I do… but I just… I  _can’t_. I’m sorry, I thought I was ready…”

All this time, he’d believed that they were holding off on sex because  _she_  wasn’t ready. And maybe that was true; he had always let her take the lead - he’d never want to put anything on her. He’d never minded either - he could do just fine without it. But now, though he can’t really explain why, it’s uncomfortable and difficult and painful and he feels so ashamed and dirty.

Planting a gentle kiss on the back of his shoulder, Amy gives his arm a reassuring squeeze as she moves to sit beside him.

“Hey… hey, look at me.” she says calmly as she turns his face towards hers. “It’s okay not to be ready.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sam returns her gaze as he mumbles, “I want to be ready… but what if I never am?”

She smiles affectionately and shrugs. “I’m fine with that.”

A little puzzled, he protests, “But… we’re together. I mean relationships-”

“Who says we have to be like other relationships?” she interjects. Then, “I’d rather be broken and messed up with you than muddle through on my own. If you’re ready somewhere down the line and we’re both comfortable with it… cool. If not, then I’m okay with that too.”

As the weight of her words hang in the air, silence falls for a moment and Sam lets the words soak in. She’s not running scared. Not from his trauma, not from his messed up life, and not from him…

“Do you want to just lie and cuddle for a while?” he asks, breaking the silence.

She smiles - that same warm, kind smile that he noticed the first time they met, that drew him in.

“I’d love that.”


End file.
